"But the expense! To make these things must have cost billions!"

"To develop them, yes. But to build them . . ." Kim shook his head. "My guess is that the hard work-the R and D-was already done. My guess is that once we start looking we'll find hundreds of these things!"

Karr stared back at him a moment, then shuddered. "You're sure you're not one yourself, Shih Ward?

To hear you speak . . ."

"Forgive me," Kim said, sitting back. "My words weren't meant to frighten you. Once we locate these things we can deal with them. But I think we ought to widen the scope of our investigation and look back through the camera records not just a month or two but over a much longer period. Several years, perhaps."

"But you said-""I've changed my mind. I think that whoever devised this is playing a long game. Placing sleepers among us. At some point, when he has enough of them in place, they'll be activated."

Karr whistled. "I see. I-"

His desk communicator buzzed. '

"What is it?" he asked, touching the pad.

"I'm sorry, sir, but there's an urgent message for Shih Ward."

Karr looked to Kim. "Would you like to take it privately?"

"No. Patch it through."

The two men turned to face the screen as it came down. An aged Han faced them, his thinly covered head bowed.

"Shih Ward?"

"Who calls me urgently?"

The old man raised his head. "Forgive me for disturbing you, Master. I am Steward Cui. We met yesterday. . . ."

"Of course," Kim said, lowering his head slightly. "You have a message for me from your Master, Steward Cui?"

"He"-the old Han made a movement with his mouth as if finding it difficult to say what he was about to say-"he says he begs you to forgive him his rudeness yesterday. He says ... if you would graciously visit him this afternoon?"

Karr looked at Kim. Something strange was happening in the young man's face. He saw the flickering emotions there, quickly controlled.

Kim raised his head proudly. "Tell your Master that 1 shall be most honored to visit him. What time would be most convenient?"

Cui gave a grateful little bob of his head. "If you would care to be here at two, I shall prepare a light meal for you."

"That is most kind, Steward Cui. Until two, then. . . ."

The screen went blank. Slowly it slid back into its ceiling slot.

"The Marshal?" Karr asked, then frowned, surprised by how unguarded Kim's expression was. For a brief moment his face revealed an unexpected vulnerability, then he composed himself again.

Kim nodded. "That's right. Now where were we ... ?"

LEHMANN WALKED SWIFTLY through the massive entrance hall, the click of his booted footsteps carried back to him from the high, vaulted ceiling. The Shen Chang Fang at Milan was the oldest and most magnificent of GenSyn's installations, taking up seven whole stacks at the very center of Milan Hsien, directly above the old city. The sheer grandeur of the place spoke of a different age-an age of fluted pillars and massive, echoing halls. It was said the ghost of Klaus Ebert walked their marble halls,but now the staff bowed their heads to another Master, kneeling hurriedly in the broad corridors as the White T'ang approached, his entourage hastening to keep up with him.

Steiger, the installation's Director, hurried to greet Lehmann as he bore down on the entrance to the new wing, bowing elaborately, but Lehmann swept past him as if he weren't there, making his way through to the laboratory where the copy had been taken.

Soucek was inside, standing over the part-dissected corpse, watching the four-man team of technicians at work. As Lehmann entered, he stepped back, allowing his Master to take his place beside the operating table.

Lehmann studied the body a moment, then looked to Soucek, indicating that they should go into the next room.

Inside, the door closed, Lehmann went to the observation window. "So what do we know?"

"Nothing," Soucek said. "If I didn't know better I'd say that thing out there was real. A human being, born to a regular human mother."

"Then maybe he was."

Soucek looked surprised. "You think they know?"

Lehmann stared at the corpse thoughtfully, then turned to face his lieutenant. "More than us, perhaps. I'm beginning to wonder if these really are Li Yuan's creatures."

"They have to be. We know Ward was working on these long before the war began. He's had a long time to perfect them."

"Maybe. But word is he hasn't been working for Li Yuan for some while. And what happened yesterday makes no sense."

"Unless the thing just panicked."

Lehmann considered that, then shook his head. "I don't believe that. Its actions were too controlled. Too . . . planned. The coat it was wearing . . . the thing that made it trace-invisible . . . what was that?"

Soucek shrugged. "We don't know."

"We didn't recover it, then?"

"No. I took that place apart but there was no sign of it. They must have taken it to Bremen."

There was the slightest twitch of irritation on Lehmann's otherwise emotionless features.

"You want us to try to get it?"

Lehmann nodded. "Just so long as it doesn't affect any of our other schemes. Can we spare an operative?"

"I'll have two men on it at once."

"Good. Now about this body. If it's not one of Ward's-if that's not where they're coming from-then where are they from? What do we know about its movements before we chanced on it?""Not a lot. We've traced it to the south-to Almeria, in fact-but we can't be certain that's where it came in."

"Then let's find out for sure. Make that a priority, Jiri. If these are coming in from Africa, then it's more serious than I thought. If the Mountain Lords have copies . . ."

Soucek laughed. The idea was absurd. "But Fu Chiang buys technology off us! Why, if he'd developed these-"

He stopped. Lehmann was not listening. The albino had turned and was staring at the copy, his mouth fallen open.

"What is it?"

But Lehmann was shaking his head. "No," he said quietly. '% couldn't be ..."

"Couldn't be what?"

"DeVore ..."

"DeVore?" Soucek shrugged. Who the fuck was DeVore?

"It wasn't Ward," Lehmann said, meeting Soucek's eyes, his pale face burning with certainty. "We've been looking in the wrong direction. It's DeVore. Howard DeVore. He's back. The bastard's back!"

UNCLE PAN HAD GONE. Lin came back into the apartment and looked at her, letting a sigh of relief escape him. He was late now, she knew-had lost a precious hour of trading-but there was no sign of impatience, only a smile that seemed to say, All, well . . .

"Can I help you?" she asked softly, looking to his cart.

His eyes followed hers, then looked back at her. "Would you like to come with me this time?"

She stared at him, surprised. He had never asked before. Always, before now, he had gone to the market on his own, bringing her back some small gift at the end of the day, just to let her know he'd been thinking of her.

"Can I?" she said, her face lit up by the thought of it.

He nodded, his broad answering smile distorting the right-hand side of his face.

"Clear the dinner things. I'll pack the cart."

STEWARD GUI let Kim into the darkened Mansion, placing a finger to his lips, then took Kim's jacket.

"He's resting right now," he said in a whisper, "but come through. I'll see if he's awake."

Kim looked about him at the shadowed hallway, remembering the last time he had been here. Then it had seemed a bright and bustling place-filled with Jelka's presence-but now the air was musty and the rooms had the feel of death about them. Even the boy, Pauli Ebert, had been taken from him-given into the care of a younger, healthier man. So Tolonen was alone now. Kim shivered. How long had he been living like this?"Shih Ward . . . If you would come ..."

He followed Cui down a long, dark corridor and out across a second hallway. Stairs went up into the darkness. Everywhere he looked doors were closed, as if the old house had been locked up.

Cui stopped before an imposing doorway and turned to Kim. "If you would wait just a moment, Shih Ward."

"Of course."

While Cui slipped inside the room, closing the door behind him, Kim turned, looking down the corridor.

Military paintings filled the walls-portraits of famous generals and scenes from famous battles.

All lies, he thought, studying one that showed the victory of the Han armies at Kazatin, the Emperor Domitian-Kan Ying-bowing before the conquering general, Pan Chao. It was a familiar image and hung in schoolrooms throughout the levels, but it was a lie, for the battle had never been fought. In fact, no Han army had ever marched upon the Ta Ts'm-the Roman Empire-let alone defeated it. Not in this reality. The truth was that Pan Chao and his handful of followers had reached the Caspian in 92 B.C. and withdrawn, leaving Europe to shape its own destiny. In this reality it had been fully two millennia before the Han returned as conquerors.

Lies. It was all built on lies. What he had said to Sampsa the other evening was the truth: the City was nothing but a box of dreams-the dreams of an evil god.

And now he must defend those dreams, lest they come crashing down. For in waking they might all die.

"Shih Ward. If you would step inside, the Marshal will see you now."

He went into the darkened room, his heart beating fast in his chest. How often he'd imagined this moment, how often he'd rehearsed which words to say; but his first glimpse of the old man robbed him of speech.

Aiya, he thought, pained by the sight.

Tolonen was propped up on his pillows. His mottled, shrunken head was completely bald and only his left arm-its golden surface polished brightly-showed above the dark blue silken covers. The whole of his right side was paralyzed and had atrophied-the result of the stroke he had suffered six years before.

As for his face . . . Kim bit his lip, moaning softly at the sight. The old man's face was thin and drawn-a grotesque caricature of what it once had been. About his neck hung what looked like a thick black brace. Kim recognized it at once. It was a speech-enhancer; one of the inventions he had worked on while he was a commodity slave for SimFic.

Beside Tolonen, on the bedside table, was the black case of the holo Kim had left the day before. "Shih Ward . . . ?" The voice was thin, almost metallic: a perfect representation of the man.

Is that really you? Kim asked silently, appalled by how much the old man had changed. Or is this some hideous, ill-shaped copy sent to haunt me?

"Marshal . . ." he said, subdued.

The golden hand lifted wearily and beckoned him. "Come closer, boy. I cannot see you in the shadows."

He moved toward the bed, feeling a heavy reluctance. The covers had been perfumed, the room sprayed with strong disguising scents, but still he could smell the old man. A stale, unhealthy smell.And in his mind-like some dreadful mockery-he saw Tolonen as he best remembered him, stripped to the waist and exercising, muscled like a god. Where had that gone? Where in the gods' names had that gone?

Kim stopped, an arm's length from the bed, looking down at Tolonen. A pair of watery gray eyes stared back at him, one focused, one drifting in its orbit, let down by the muscles surrounding it.

"How is she?"

Kim smiled sadly. "She's well," he said. "And the boy. He's a healthy lad. He has his mother's nature."

"I miss her," the old man said, the enhancer making the words sound flat, unemotional. "It's been unbearable without her."

Kim nodded, understanding. "She misses you."

The old man swallowed painfully. His good eye blinked. "I ... I was wrong."

"No," Kim said. There was a speech here he'd rehearsed, an angry, bitter speech about the wasted years and the stupidity of pride, but it meant nothing now. All that mattered was to heal the wound. To end this senseless feud.

"She loves you," he said.

The old man's mouth quivered, twisted strangely.

"What's done is done," Kim said. "Let it go. Come and live with us. It's what she wants. What we all want."

He waited, seeing how the old man struggled with himself. Even to agree to see him, he knew, had cost the old man greatly. His pride, his stupid, senseless pride-yet if he threw that away, what would remain of him?

"I ..." He saw the last shred of defiance vanish like a wisp of smoke. The old man nodded stiffly, more a spasm of the neck than a nod, then closed his eyes. Slowly a tear rolled down his cheek.

Kim knelt and took the old man's golden hand between his own.

"It's over," he said, smiling, all the bitterness and anger purged from him. "You're going home, Knut.

Home to Kalevala."

SAMPSA LAY ON HIS BACK in the sunlight, the smooth surface of the rock warm beneath him as he listened to the gentle slush of the waves lapping on the shingle farther down the beach.

Beside him a crab scuttled in the shallow rock pool, the pattern On its back like the Han symbol erh, the complex pictogram night-black against the meat red shell. He watched it through half-lidded eyes, then looked up, studying the shapes of clouds.